


Raindrops and Endless Smoke

by thefandombeckons



Series: The Trials and Tribulations of Jazz [3]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Killing, Bombing, POV Second Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Seekers, The Fall of Praxus, Thunder - Freeform, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 04:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefandombeckons/pseuds/thefandombeckons
Summary: You're in the middle of telling Mikaela a story. The pitter-patter of the harsh rain doesn't bother you until there's a flash and then a rolling roar and then-And then you're back to your reason.Everyone has a reason for joining the war. Praxus was yours.





	Raindrops and Endless Smoke

You're in the middle of a story, your visor is up, you're relaxed, Mikaela's here, you're both laughing.

The pitter-patter of the harsh rain doesn't bother you until there's a flash and then a rolling roar and then _everything is gone everything they destroyed it they killed Praxus-_

"-azz? Jazz. Hello?"

You focus back in on Mikaela. Your visor comes crashing down as another _boom_ rattles your plating. Mik looks at you with something akin to alarm as you backpedal to the corner. You flinch as she reaches behind her.

_You watch as he reaches towards his wings and takes his rifle. You watch as he shoots the sparkling you were protecting. You scream as they hold you down tight, too tight, **calm down we're only going to kill you like we did the bitlet-**_

A small hand on your thigh brings you back. You're on your knees. Mik tells you, "Breathe, Jazz, it's only thunder. Ratchet's coming. It's okay."

Your vents come roaring to life as your frame remembers to cool, and then they stutter as another rolling crash sounds.

_You scream for someone, anyone. Too many fly overhead, but all have the same purple symbol etched into their wings. The bombs fall fast, too fast, too **loud**  for your Polyhexian audials. You have no choice but to watch your now-city shatter around you in a dangerous, terrified symphony._

The clanking of pedes halt in front of you. Ratchet. He kneels in front of you, heels quickly rolling back as you flinch from his touch.

_Praxus has fallen, they say. Too quick, they say, we couldn't help. The city burns as the sickening smoke covers the sky above. Millions of years later, the smoke still rises._

Even when the storm is over, you still cry.


End file.
